


Cadenza

by ladyamesindy



Series: The Music Lives On [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon Divergent, Colonist background, Gen, Mindoir, Pre-Mass Effect 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyamesindy/pseuds/ladyamesindy
Summary: Mindoir, a quiet agricultural community and humanity's footstep into the Attican Traverse.  For Lachlan Shepard, it represents home, the closeness of family and friends, a place he can be himself and grow into the person he is to become.  For Kaidan Alenko, it represents a place in which he can retreat from the memories of his past, a place to recover, perhaps start over anew.Cadenza: A moment in a musical piece where an instrumentalist or singer is given the opportunity to play a solo freely and with artistic license to go outside of a rigid tempo or rhythm.  In this instance, the canon-divergence that leads to these two meeting.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko & Male Shepard
Series: The Music Lives On [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034172
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	1. Chuilien

_Mindoir, 2168_

Fiona Shepard is not a woman to be trifled with, especially by her sons, so when Lachlan and Iain come racing into the house after school, throwing bags and coats willy-nilly and tear up the stairs to their rooms, not just breaking but _shattering_ an otherwise calm and peaceful afternoon at the Shepard homestead on Mindoir, she’s had enough and isn’t afraid to tell them so.

“Lachlan MacRae! Iain Sinclair! Get yourselves back down here and clean up the mess you just made!” she calls up the stairs. Her voice, strong and vibrant, rings through the house, loud and clear and with definitive authority. 

Fifteen-year-old Lachlan slinks out of his bedroom, ginger hair tousled into his eyes. Twelve-year-old tow-headed Iain stands wide-eyed in his doorway staring over at his brother. “Lach … she …!”

Lachlan huffs softly. “Aye, she did,” he agrees. “And the longer we stay up here, the more we’ll suffer for it later.” He winces at the thought and immediately heads back to the stairs, albeit in a less raucous manner than his ascent. 

Iain follows behind him even more gingerly. “She’s pissed!”

Lachlan gives his brother a sharp look, hissing over his shoulder, “No kidding!”

Without another word, he descends and crosses the room to hang up his coat and collect his bag, Iain right behind. Across the room, Fiona stands with her back to the sink while facing them, a stern expression on her features and her arms folded across her chest; a formidable warrior any smart person would want on their side in battle. Bright red hair, braided and twisted, shapes around her head like a crown. Lachlan is well aware it’s an apt comparison. She rules the house, the iron fist in the velvet glove. At times it can be … scary, mostly because she’s taught them to recognize when they’re in the wrong, and guilt for said wrongs has a habit of weighing heavier than any other. 

“Sorry, Mum,” he mumbles as he sets his bag on the table and fishes out his homework. 

“Me too,” Iain echoes meekly, sliding into his chair and opening his own bag.

 _Homework first_. It’s the highest rule of the house.

Dropping into his seat, Lachlan settles so that his left foot bounces beneath the table to a rhythm only he can hear inside his head. As per usual, the music calls to him and he cannot seem to focus. 

“Lachlan.”

The warning is stern and, no doubt, comes from the fact the table is vibrating just enough to rattle the flower vase loud enough to be heard across the room. He sighs heavily, stops his foot, and turns back to his work. Not a minute passes before he takes up an incessant tapping with his fingers with the hand lying next to his datapad. Across the table, Iain snickers softly, looking away when Lachlan glares over at him. Lachlan straightens and is highly tempted to reach over and flick his brother’s nose with his finger, but another stern look from his mother chases the thought away before he moves to execute. Once her back is turned again, however, he sticks his tongue out at his brother instead. Iain is all too happy to return the gesture.

Lachlan loses track of how much time passes, and is still staring at his datapad, struggling to sort out how to determine the area of a rhombus – why does he even _need_ this sort of thing when it has no real-life application? – the tip of his stylus tapping out yet another rhythmic pattern when Fiona walks over and wraps her hand around Lachlan’s to cease the movement, sliding the stylus from his fingers. 

As if sensing the growing tension between the two, Iain closes his things. Looking at his mother, he asks with all due politeness, “May I be excused now, Mum?”

Fiona glances over at him. “Are you finished with your work?”

He nods quickly, sliding his datapad over to her. She takes a moment to scan through it before handing it back. “Get on with you, then.”

Lachlan sighs. _Great._ He knows what comes next; it happens at least twice a week. Shoulders slumping, he covers his face with his hands while his mother pulls her chair over next to him and sits. _Lachlan, you need to give more attention to your studies …_

“Lachlan.”

His shoulders slump even further with the hint of disappointment in her tone. “Aye, Mum?” Acceptance is the only way; argument never leads anywhere except for another stern discussion with his father at a later date. 

He’s a bit startled when her hand comes to rest gently on his shoulder and rubs lightly. Lowering his hands, he looks over. “ _Chuilein_ ,” ** she says quietly, “what troubles you?”

Now, there’s a loaded question. “Why do I need this?” he asks, gesturing to the confounding math formulas and the datapad. “It’s not like I have to determine the perimeter or area of my cello or anything.”

A hint of a twitch at the left corner of Fiona’s lips and a matching twinkle in her eyes are the only signs of amusement at the situation. Her hand moves, tousling his hair further, and she tilts her head to the right. “You never know, now, do you?”

She’s teasing him. It takes a full, long minute for him to recognize that given his current level of frustration, but his mother is teasing him … which means, she isn’t angry or disappointed? “Mum – ?”

“You learn the maths because you need to know them,” she insists. “Just like you learn your other subjects.” She reaches over and cradles his cheek with her hand. “You’re a smart one, Lachlan. You can _do_ this; I know you can!”

So they’re back around to this again. Averting his gaze back to the datapad before him, he shakes his head. She’s always been supportive of him, no matter what he does, but this – the daily struggle to get through the homework and occasional issues at school itself – has always been a challenge. The only reason he ‘likes’ school is because of the chance to learn more music.

_Music._

He’s itching to get back upstairs to practice. There’s nothing quite like it, to be honest; as important to him, as vital to his well-being as air is for breathing. The bite of metal beneath calloused fingers as he presses the strings with one hand while coaxing the notes out with the bow in his other. A battle of sorts; will he hit the right mark, will the bow strike true? And it’s the only thing in his life he can focus on enough to calm him, _truly_ settle him for anything longer than a few minutes at a time. He’s gone hours playing, losing himself completely to the music. He _needs_ it more than anything he’s ever needed before. Jake Stafford teases him about the music being a drug; not that he knows from personal experience, but he’s heard the kids at school talk, and Lachlan can’t help but agree. Music, for him, is a lifeblood. A language. A state of being. _Magical_.

Fiona scans the datapad again and sighs before pushing it away. Leaning toward her eldest, she touches his forehead with her own as she ruffles his hair. “I know the music calls you, _chuilein_ , but you need the self-control to focus on other things, to block it out when necessary. Too much of a good thing can be as dangerous than not enough, maybe more so. You need to find _balance_.”

Lachlan bites his lip and nods dutifully. He understands, truly he does, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to put into practice. His gaze drifts back to the datapad and he sighs. He’s just reaching for it when Fiona pulls back, ghosts a quick kiss to his forehead as she soothes his unruly curls out of his face, and smiles. “Get on, with you!” she chides gently, swatting vaguely at his shoulder. Not one to askance at the reprieve, Lachlan grabs his bag and books and retreats in a mad scramble for the stairs. “But I expect perfection with Bach’s _Prelude_ by the end of the week!”

“Aye, ma’am!” he shouts back over his shoulder as he tops the stairs. 

He stops when she peers up at him from below stairs, a knowing look in her green eyes. “That’s _Mum_ t’you, _chuilein_!” A wink accompanies the words to take the sting out.

Grinning from ear to ear, Lachlan gives her a mock salute. “Aye, _Mum_!” He ducks into his room before she can stop him any further. 

Taking a deep breath, he drops his things to the side and leans back against the door, eyes wandering around the room. They’re one of the lucky families, he understands that and is grateful for it. The land his father claimed years before is good farming land and they’ve done well for themselves on Mindoir. He’s fortunate to have a large, spacious room; they all do in this house. A place for his things, a bed to lie his head at night, but most importantly, a place where he can retreat and focus on his music. 

He retrieves the instrument that nearly matches his current height then settles onto his chair. It takes a moment to adjust his bow and tune the instrument, but when he’s done, he shuffles the pages on his music stand into the proper order. For several long minutes, he looks through it, reading it, visualizing his performance. Playing is as much mental and emotional as it is physical for him. Once he’s looked through the entire piece, _twice_ , he finds a proper sitting position and finally sets the bow to the strings.

Time has no meaning when he plays. His brother understands this, too; a rising violinist in his own right, but they both inherit it honestly from Fiona. In her youth, she’d taken a keen interest in music and learned several instruments. The trait, the _love_ , she passed along to her sons. Both he and his brother are adept at multiple instruments. Cello, violin, bagpipes and piano for Lachlan; violin, bagpipes and piano for Iain. But the absolute _best_ times, at least to Lachlan’s way of thinking, are when all three together. He on cello, his brother on violin and their mother on piano. 


	2. Welcome to Mindoir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly eighteen, Kaidan Alenko is in need of some time and space to think and sort his life out after BAaT. When he arrives on Mindoir, he hires on to help out on the Shepard homestead ...

Mindoir is not at all what Kaidan Alenko expects. Of course, that is easy enough to accomplish when he has no real expectations in the first place.

Hopping off the back end of the truck, he waves his thanks to the driver and hoists his bag over his shoulder. The driver waves back as he pulls away down the main road, a broad yet pleasant smile crossing his slightly craggy features. 

At a literal crossroads at this moment in his life, Kaidan takes a good look at his surroundings. This far outside the center of the colony, it is easy to understand the draw it has. As human colonies go, it is of decent size, maybe not as big as Elysium or Terra Nova, but it definitely has potential for growth, despite its focus on agriculture. Broad expanses of wide-open land spread over gently rolling hills are a good selling point, and the people … Well, the people are something else, indeed.

Almost from the moment his shuttle arrived, the colonists have been nothing but open and welcoming to him, going out of their way to assist. A part of him, the far too cynical side leftover from BAaT, cannot help but wonder when it will turn into some sort of complicated passing of the torch sort of maneuver; something akin to the old game of Hot Potato. That it has not so far leaves him bewildered.

A flurry of movement across the road and a quarter mile or so to his left catches his attention as a flock of birds of some kind rises from the small grove of trees isolated in the middle of the field like an oasis in a desert. In that moment, in the back of his mind, he hears echoes of a voice, the one that haunts him and likely will until the end of his days … _You are too weak, cadet!_ _Letting yourself be distracted …._

A shudder ripples across his shoulders. With a quick mental yank, he pulls his gaze back to the road ahead of him, inhales deeply, and forces the images and thoughts away to deal with some other time. 

_Please, not now._

He takes a good long look down the side road that is supposed to take him to his destination. Fences line either side separating the fields from the pavement. Off to the east, there are signs of another wooded area; just a clump of trees and brush, smaller than the other one from what he can tell. Behind him, the sun – brighter here than back home, even this late in the day, as well as a bit more orangish-red – slowly descends to the horizon. The driver told him sunset wouldn’t be for a few hours yet, but with the thought that it is better to be safe than sorry, he heads down the road in the direction of the homestead. 

Mindoir was not his intended destination when he set out from Earth with only his duffle and a few hundred credits to his name, it just happened to be where the shuttle departing Vancouver was headed. Had he given it more thought and planning, he might have chosen Terra Nova or even Elysium – larger and, theoretically, safer destinations. But at the time, it was more important to just _leave_. Things at home were … too much. Residual tension between himself and his parents left over from the disaster at BAaT created a situation that was, plainly put, unbearable. It is not that his parents are not willing to help in any way they can; he is well aware they want to, but it was impossible to miss the awkward looks, the hesitations, the carefully but not quite concealed fear. He knows they love him, and he still loves them, but they have no real understanding of what it is to be biotic, and thus the gap between them never seems to shrink. 

So, without a word to them or anyone else, left. _Escape_ might be putting too fine of a point on things, but after the events of the past six months, a change is necessary. The guilt over his actions eats at him, likely always will. Someday, he hopes his parents will understand, maybe even forgive him, but for now he needs space, time, and anonymity. 

His arrival in the capital city of Weston left him in the heart of the colony searching for ideas. Though small – not even as big as Kamloops back home – he found several potential employers. But it was the woman in the feed store who suggested he speak to the driver who gave him the ride out to farming country, and he provided a name: Benjamin Shepard. Well known and liked by his fellow colonists, the man apparently needed help around his homestead. The opportunity sounded almost too good to be true, but not for the first time since he began this journey, Kaidan decided to take the risk.

_“Good man, good family,” the driver – named Delay – assures him. “Well liked and respected. He and his family make it work out here.”_

_Before accepting the ride, Kaidan hesitates. “And you’re sure he’s looking for help?”_

_The man nods. “Got injured last year – nothing major, but wrenched his leg up pretty bad on top of an old service injury, and he’s had a bit of trouble since. His wife and boys help, but Ben could use someone dedicated to the place. Said if I happened to come across anyone who’s interested, I should send them his way.”_

_“All right, let’s go.”_

And so, here he is, getting his bearings on the way to what he hopes will be his new home, at least for a while. The landscape is not quite what he is used to out at the orchard, but the climate is comfortable enough. Eyeing the crops, it’s easy to see the conditions are conducive to growing. 

It takes him a good twenty minutes before he finds the turn off the driver told him about. This road lasts about a half mile or so before it curves into an open area where he finds a barn and large frame house. Kaidan’s first impression of the place is that Mr. Delay was right – the farm is large and requires at least two healthy people working it. What he’s seen so far is in pretty good shape, but another hand can only help.

He enters the open courtyard area, duffle settled over his shoulder. The house is to his left with a family vehicle parked in front. Ahead of him, and to the left of the barn, a dingy green work truck sits out of the way. Beside it, a large, open top trailer rests. At the front of the barn, Kaidan finds the door ajar. He approaches quietly and is greeted by the clatter and clang of someone moving around inside. 

Taking a deep breath, he steps up to the door and calls out, “Hello? I’m looking for Benjamin Shepard?”

“Inside!” The voice that replies is deep, warm, strong, and reminds Kaidan of his father. He cannot stop the grimace that pinches his brow as a wave of homesickness and regret overtakes him. He masks his expression quickly, however, and enters. There is just enough light inside to identify a man who looks to be in his fifties or sixties with middle-length dark blond hair. No one else appears to be around. “Benjamin Shepard?”

The man nods, a pair of vibrant, assessing yet friendly blue eyes meeting Kaidan. He smiles as he wipes his hands on an old, stained rag tucked into his waist. “Aye,” he agrees readily enough. “You are?”

“Kaidan Alenko.” Kaidan sets his bag on the ground and extends a hand, hoping he isn’t being too forward. The man’s brow arches a little in surprise, but he takes the hand in his. “Tom Delay said you were looking for some extra help around the place.”

The first hint of a smile curves the man’s lips and Kaidan swears it mixes with relief, though the shadows in here make it difficult to tell for certain. “I am at that.” Shepard tosses the rag aside and gestures for Kaidan to follow. Grabbing his bag, he does. Outside the building, Shepard leads him around to the southern side of the barn where he points across several open fields. “We’ve got a pretty big spread out here,” he explains, “and ‘bout this time last year, I messed my leg up good.” He rubs at his right hip in an absent manner. “Could use the extra help keeping up the place, especially come harvest time.” He glances over at Kaidan, eyes him head to toe. “You’re young, look to be in pretty good shape. You have any experience with farming?”

Kaidan shrugs. “My dad has an orchard back on Earth. I helped with that some over the years.”

Shepard nods. “That’ll do. You eighteen?”

Kaidan inhales slowly, deeply. “Yes,” he replies casually. It isn’t a lie, exactly. He will be in another month. 

“How do you feel about long days and hard work?”

This time, Kaidan manages a laugh. “I’m familiar with those, too.”

Shepard rubs his chin with his hand. The older man focuses intently on Kaidan – it is a look he has seen before, from his father, from Vyrnnus, from others who have spent time in the service – but Kaidan does not flinch from it. “We have a spare room in the house,” the man says after several minutes, apparently satisfied with what he finds. “You can share meals with us, or not, your choice, but you’re most welcome to. Oh, and I can start you at, say, five hundred credits a week? That work for you?”

Kaidan blinks, unable to mask his surprise. He’s had jobs that pay well in the past, but nothing where he ever earned _that_ much in a week. “Un, sure, sir. That’s … that’s a very generous offer.”

“We’ll see how things go, make adjustments as necessary.” Shepard gestures toward the house. “And, it’s Ben,” he adds with a grin. “I haven’t been in the service for years; no need to stand on ceremony. Anyway, let me introduce you to the rest of the family.”

Kaidan hesitates when they near the steps leading up to the main door. Frowning, he tilts his head upward, searching, _listening_. This is no prefab, but a house built similar to his family’s old frame house back at the orchard. Directly above him are a couple of windows, both closed. Still, he swears he can hear …

Ben Shepard laughs, a rumbling, comfortable sound. “That’ll be my boys practicing,” he explains. “Iain is twelve and plays violin. Lachlan is fifteen and plays cello. This time of day, they’re both practicing more often than not.”

Kaidan doesn’t know much about music other than being able to decide if he likes something or not, but what he hears brings a smile to his face. “It’s nice.”

Ben’s laughter continues, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. “I hope you can say that by the end of your first week! They like their music, but Lachlan would skip everything and just dedicate every waking hour to it, if given half a chance. If he gets too bothersome, just let me or Fiona know and we’ll rein him in.”

Kaidan nods, but says nothing. The music _is_ nice and definitely different from what he’s used to. He doubts it will become an issue.

They head indoors where he meets Fiona, a pleasant woman with a lovely smile though he recognizes the same sort of innate strength of will he often sees in his mother. She welcomes him warmly, shows him up to the refurbished attic on the top floor that’s been converted into a bedroom, and retreats with the promise that dinner will be ready soon. 

Kaidan takes a little while to settle himself in; it’s both a relief and just a little disconcerting that this opportunity fell into his lap so easily. Or, maybe that is simply because for the past couple of years, his entire life has done a complete one-eighty. One extreme to the other, and now back again, his grandmother would probably say if she was still alive. It isn’t that he does not want things to go right for a change. If anything, he figures he is about due for some good luck. But BAaT left a bad ‘taste’ in his mouth, and getting over those events is more complicated than deciding he needs a lifestyle change. 

Upon further exploration of the room, it turns out he has the entire upper floor to himself, an area that is quite spacious. There are windows at both ends which allow the light in, but also have heavy curtains he can pull into place, effectively blocking it when necessary. A quick examination of the double wide bed proves it is quite comfortable, certainly better than his bunk back at BAaT. He finds a small closet in a corner which contains additional sheets, blankets, and pillows as well as towels. At the foot of the bed there is an empty chest he can use for storage, and along one wall, a good-sized desk with all standard hook ups as well as a lamp. On the far side of the room, a small bookcase sits next to another lamp and comfortable-looking chair. The shelf, he discovers, contains a mixture of actual books and datapads, many of which are old, favorite titles. 

Some time later, Fiona calls up that dinner is ready, and Kaidan descends to the second level. He barely manages to jump out of the way just as a blur of light blond hair and tanned skin scrambles madly toward the stairs. He can only assume it is one of Ben and Fiona’s boys. Either the kid doesn’t notice him in his mad dash, or he thinks Kaidan is someone else because he doesn’t slow, look back, or otherwise challenge Kaidan on his presence in the house. 

Once the dust is settled, so to speak, Kaidan crosses the landing to head on down. He hesitates by the door nearest the staircase, however. Mellow tones, soft and gentle, fill the air with a melody that he’s heard before, though he has no idea the name of the piece or the composer.

“Kaidan?”

Startled, Kaidan leans over the banister to find Fiona looking up from the base of the stairs. “Yes, ma’am?”

She chuckles softly. “Please, call me Fiona. Would you do me a favor and tell Lachlan if he doesn’t get down here now, he’ll be without supper for the night?”

Kaidan glances over at the door; the music has grown a bit louder in the past few seconds. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you!”

As Kaidan opens the door, the volume continues to swell. But surprisingly, any concern he might have had that it will trigger one of his migraines fades. Instead, the warm, mellow tones are quite the opposite. They soothe and calm, and at the moment, chase away the last of the raw nerves that have plagued him since leaving Earth. For just a moment, he stands in the doorway, closes his eyes, and listens.

The piece comes to an end soon after, at which point Kaidan takes advantage of the opportunity and clears his throat loudly. The ginger-haired lad seated across the room jumps in his chair, turning wide eyes on him, but he relaxes again almost immediately. “Your mother said to tell you that if you don’t come down for dinner now you will go without for the night,” Kaidan announces. 

Hopping to his feet, Lachlan carefully stows his cello back in its case before turning back. “And who’re you?”

Kaidan bites back a laugh. Straight forward, blunt, honest. That is his first impression of Lachlan Shepard. “Kaidan Alenko.” As the boy walks over, Kaidan searches his features. Red hair like mom, blue eyes like dad. “You must be the other son,” he adds, a smile curving at his lips.

Lachlan’s brow furrows. “Other one?”

They exit the room together and start down the stairs side-by-side. Kaidan points back in the direction of the attic room. “When I came down, I was nearly run over by – .”

Lachlan rolls his eyes. “Iain, my younger brother,” he explains with a huff of laughter. “Blond whirlwind? Over-exuberant bundle of energy?”

Kaidan grins and nods. “Nearly bowled me over.”

“That’s him.”

Ben, Fiona, and Iain already are seated at the table when they arrive, and Kaidan and Lachlan quickly take their places. Dinner is delicious. Still, the biggest thing Kaidan takes away from the meal isn’t the taste of the food or what is served, but just how easily the Shepard family accepts him into their fold. Over good food and better company, he discovers that maybe, just maybe, his luck has indeed changed. Wide smiles, hearty laughter, and good-natured teasing are the rule of order in this household, something he hasn’t been around in what feels like a lifetime. There is a comfort, acceptance, an ease about one another, in the way they talk and tease. Smiles don’t just reach their lips and eyes, but wreathe entire faces. It is such a change from what he’s known in recent years, it is a bit of a shock.

When Lachlan reaches for a third dinner roll, Fiona lightly smacks his hand away. “You’ve had enough of that,” she tells him while reaching past her son to hand the basket over to Kaidan. It’s that moment that Lachlan points out Iain’s near miss upstairs. The younger boy quickly apologizes, in an effort to preempt his mother jumping all over him to do so. Kaidan hides a smile behind a bite of the dinner roll. He had no doubt; Fiona Shepard is cut from the same bolt of cloth as Hannah Alenko. As Lachlan and Iain share their stories from their day at school, filled with typical teenage antics and with laughs from both parents in all the right places, Kaidan finds he does not mind this one bit.

“So, Kaidan,” Ben asks when he can get a word in edgewise between the excited chatterings of his sons, “you said you came to Mindoir from Earth?”

“Yes, sir … erm, Ben. My parents live in Vancouver, though my father’s family has an orchard in the BC Interior that’s been in our family for years,” Kaidan explains.

Fiona’s eyes sparkle. “What kind of orchard?”

“Mostly apples, some peaches and, more recently, pears.” He shrugs casually. “I used to help out when I was growing up.” _Back before the world showed its ugly side,_ a voice in his head reminds him _._ He shoves it away.

Fiona appears to melt before his eyes as she sighs. “Several of the colonists here have tried to start up orchards, but with varying degrees of success.”

“Mum?”

Kaidan’s attention is drawn to Lachlan who, though still eating his meal, fidgets quite a bit in his seat, and now has an expectant look on his face as waits for his mother to respond. A quick look over at Iain confuses Kaidan, however, because the younger boy also has that same sort of look. Ben coughs softly behind his napkin. When Kaidan glances his direction, the older man shakes his head just the smallest bit, amusement filling his eyes. 

“Eat your meal, Lachlan,” Fiona admonishes as she continues her own. “I’ll not be discussing it until you are finished.”

Lachlan is quick to take up the challenge now that she has responded. “But, Mum!”

“No.”

“But …?” Iain ventures.

“Eat.”

Ben, staring down at the half of a roll he holds in his hands, murmurs, “Now, Fiona, darlin’, it _is_ a bit of a special occasion.”

Fiona huffs and reaches for her drink. “I’ll not be discussing it until dinner is done, and that’s my final word!” 

But there is a hint of a curve at her lips, Kaidan notices. Whatever is going on here, it seems to be as … well, routine might be too fine of a point on it, but familiar pattern if nothing else. 

A few more minutes pass until finally Lachlan and Iain rise to clear away the dishes. Kaidan starts to assist – old habits die hard – but Fiona shakes her head. “This is their chore, Kaidan. But thank you.”

Several minutes later, Lachlan and Iain both return to the table, this time standing to either side but just behind Fiona’s chair. “Please, Mum?” This time, it’s spoken in unison.

Kaidan sits back with his drink and watches, hoping for some sort of clue as to what is going on. Whatever they are after, both boys appear quite invested in it. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Fiona sits back in her seat and drops her hands to her lap. “Well, now,” she says as her eyes meet her husband’s, “I suppose it _is_ a special occasion after all, isn’t it?” Ben nods. “All right then. Lachlan, you and Iain go and fetch your grandfather’s pipes.”

In less time than it takes for Kaidan to blink, the pair scramble out of the room with a loud clatter. Once they are out of earshot, Fiona leans slightly toward him. “If you haven’t guessed,” she explains, “I’m from Scotland, back on Earth. My father, their,” she nods her heads after the boys, “grandfather, left his bagpipes to me when he passed some years ago. On very special occasions, I will play them and, if they are very well behaved, they have the opportunity, too.”

“Fiona is quite the piper,” Ben adds, a proud smile on his face. 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard them before,” Kaidan admits. 

The boys run back into the room, Lachlan carrying a dark case in his hands which he sets on the table in front of Fiona. With a loving smile, she runs her hand over it, eyes closing briefly before she focuses on opening the case and removing the instrument. Kaidan watches in fascination as she attaches a piece, checks the others, fills the bag with air, then plays a few notes before making a few adjustments – what exactly she does, he can’t tell. The sound itself is one he might need to be careful of if played on a regular basis because it could trigger his headaches, but from what Fiona told him, it should not be an issue. After a few minutes and only once she seems satisfied with her results, Fiona’s fingers start moving along one of the wooden pieces that extend from the bag itself.

At the same time he observes her, Kaidan watches the boys who hang on her chair in fascinated wonder. When she starts to play an actual song, Iain whoops and dances around the table, careful to avoid his mother’s chair, but Lachlan steps back closer to his father, his full attention on his mother. 

Fiona plays several songs before smiling over at her eldest. “Well, Lach, d’you wanna play tonight?”

He nods, stepping back over to his mother’s side and taking the instrument from her. He mimics many of the same actions, so far as Kaidan can tell, and a short while later, starts to play. By the end of the night, even Iain gets a chance to try his hand at it. It is, Kaidan realizes, a very rare and special occasion indeed. And one he finds quite interesting. 

After an hour or so, Fiona takes the pipes back. “Go on with you,” she admonishes, but with a soft smile at each of them. “You’ve got school tomorrow. Time for bed.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Lachlan tells her as he kisses her cheek and heads to the stairs. 

Iain follows suit. “Thanks, Mum.”

Fiona chuckles. “It’s not me you should be thanking, but Kaidan. He is the guest of honor, aye?”

Kaidan suddenly feels like a deer caught in the crosshairs of a hunting rifle as two sets of eyes focus on him. “Thank you, Kaidan.”

It takes him a moment to respond, but by the time he can, they are already scrambling up the stairs. 

Chuckling, Ben rises to his feet to collect the last of the dishes from the table. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Kaidan?” he asks. “We are a rather …”

Fiona laughs, concluding for him, “Unique bunch!”

Kaidan stands, a wide smile on his face. “I think this may be exactly what I’m looking for.” Nodding at the two, he concludes, “Thank you both for the opportunity.”

Ben laughs gently. “You look exhausted. Go get a good night’s rest and tomorrow we’ll get started.”

Fiona smiles over at him as well. “Good night, Kaidan, and welcome to Mindoir.”

Kaidan returns the smile as he heads for the stairs. “Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> chuilein = lad(die) (Scottish)


End file.
